


Tether to the Quiet

by LandOfMistAndSecrets



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fighting, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sparring, dimitri goes from having a pretty bad time at the ball, thats the fic, to having a pretty good time at the training grounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25550125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandOfMistAndSecrets/pseuds/LandOfMistAndSecrets
Summary: More than one couple avoided his gaze, off to cast their hearts’ wishes to the Goddess. A wild fancy took him, then: climbing those steps with Felix at his side, a smile on his face, and a wish in his heart.Hah.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70
Collections: Project Sworn





	Tether to the Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for [Project Sworn.](https://twitter.com/projectsworn) This piece does have accompanying art from my amazingly talented partner, fai, which has not yet been posted outside the zine; if when and it is, I will update w/links. ❤️

Whispers followed him through the hall. 

At first, he thought nothing of it. As crown prince, Dimitri was long accustomed to tongues wagging at his every move. 

_Tell me what the point of this is,_ someone spoke, so near he surely should have felt their breath stir his hair. He turned his head, searching. _A grand ball,_ it sneered, heedless of his confusion, and he realized then that he recognized it. That sarcastic lilt and sharp disdain… _Have you no shame?_ _Our enemies are plotting all around us!_

He flinched. Glenn was _dead._ Automatically, his eyes cast about the hall in search of familiar dark hair and amber eyes -- not Glenn’s, of course not. But Felix, too, stood far out of reach, tucked away from the crowds and dancing and glittering lights. Ingrid stood at one side of him, Sylvain the other, and though he could not hear their words, he could see Sylvain’s laughter and the way Ingrid crossed her arms and shook her finger up at him, scolding. Felix rolled his eyes at the both of them, looking very fine indeed in formal uniform, and Dimitri recognized the fondness in it easily. 

It left him feeling… lonely, he realized.

_How absurd._ A woman’s voice. He knew it too. _Always so needy. You drive us all away with your greed._ His brow furrowed and he spun about, searching. Who dared speak to him so, with a voice so much like his late stepmother’s? 

But there was no one there. 

The dances and his partners blurred together, on and on. The crystal light burned harsh, streaking at the edges of his vision. His mouth went dry, his head ached, and his cheeks felt stretched and tight. Whispers pierced through the mulled murmur of the crowd, at his shoulder, behind his ear, startling him about. _Dimitri_ , they sighed. 

So few people used his name so casually, anymore. He could count them on one hand.

_Stop this nonsense at once!_

He blinked, stumbling mid-step through a dance. His partner’s heeled shoe caught, nearly sending them both tumbling over one another to the floor. Heart pounding, he apologized profusely and excused himself at last. A headache, he explained. It was quite bad, now, pounding at his temples, throbbing through his skull.

_How can you call yourself a Prince of Faerghus, behaving this way?_

No one there. 

_They killed us._

He remembered it well. 

Blood and viscera, washing over the stones, pooling at his feet. It congealed in sticky strings, holding him in place and pulling him to his knees. It soaked into his clothes, thick and warm against his skin, while shadowed figures moved about him in the dark, among the smoke, stealing along the blurred streaks of his vision where he couldn’t see the colors or the banners, only, 

_Every moment you waste in frivolity is another moment I must suffer knowing there has been no JUSTICE_

“-- Dimitri?” 

A hand on his shoulder. It brought him back. His heart leapt and he turned, full of eager, foolish hope. “Felix,” he breathed.

Mercedes smiled at him, one hand pressed primly over her mouth. 

“Oh my, no,” she said, gently. “Felix left some time ago. He didn’t dance a single number! He can be so stubborn, hm?” 

“Mercedes,” he breathed, reeling. “I’m so sorry.” Felix was _gone?_

“Whatever for?” She blinked up at him, guileless and serene. “You hardly need to apologize! You look exhausted, poor thing.” She giggled into one hand, soft and sweet. “The ladies have been running you ragged, I see.”

If he had any sense, he’d give her a bow and beg her favor for the next dance.

_If you had any sense, you’d do your damned duty._

He flinched and gasped and turned his head to find nothing there at all. Mercedes saw, and kindly said nothing. Another apology gathered on his tongue, but she stepped in close, eyebrows high.

“You know, I heard Felix stalked off north, sword in hand, without even bothering to change his clothes!” She clucked her tongue. “He’ll ruin his uniform, silly boy.” She reached up with a silk-gloved hand and patted Dimitri’s cheek. “Someone ought to go check on him, don’t you think?” 

He coughed, lowering his eyes.

“Surely not me,” he murmured. “He despises me, you know.” It was a terribly dramatic thing to say, he knew. Felix had been speaking to him, again, sometimes. Surely that was progress enough.

“Of course,” Mercedes winked. She waved, and he realized what she meant to do -- disappear back into the milling, faceless crowd -- and he surged thoughtlessly forward, reaching for her.

_Greedy boy. You’ll drive them all away._

She turned back to him, a swirling angel in black and gold and glittering silver-white, with a knowing smirk curving her lips. She opened her mouth and addressed not him, but rather, the crowd around her.

“Prince Dimitri was just so gallant, tonight, wasn’t he?” she sighed, clasping her hands to her chest. “Oh, I do hope he’s off to get some rest. He looks so tired. I would say he’s well earned it, wouldn’t you?” 

He understood, then, the opportunity she meant to create for him. He shot her a grateful look, and fled the room. 

Outside, the winter chill was a welcome shock. He’d been sweating. His cheeks were slick with it, his shirt stuck to his back. He took a moment just to breathe, watching the air crystallize with each exhale.

And then he went north.

More than one couple avoided his gaze, off to cast their hearts’ wishes to the Goddess. A wild fancy took him, then: climbing those steps with Felix at his side, a smile on his face, and a wish in his heart.

Hah. 

_Pointless distraction,_ a new voice spoke, reverberating in his skull. His father, though he could not recall ever hearing His Majesty speak so curtly to anyone, least of all him. _What right do you have to pursue such selfish interests?_

He had no answer. Only his own feelings, inconsequential against such vast injustice.

At this hour, the training yard was still and shadowed, its high walls discernible from the night sky only for how they blotted out the stars. Yet, far across the field, past the lines of cloth-wrapped mannequins, a faint glow flickered between arched columns. 

He smiled. Their peers were all still dancing, or off to beg divine blessings, or seeking more shadowed, romantic sojourns… and Felix came here to be alone with his swords.

Dimitri heard him long before he saw him, grunts of effort and the telltale whistle of a blade slicing relentlessly through the air. 

It was just as Mercedes said. Felix hadn’t bothered to change, though he had discarded his heavy waistcoat, and the fine silk of his buttoned undershirt clung to him, soaked with sweat. He’d undone the top buttons some few further than was proper for polite company, and a blue ribbon in his hair hung limp and loose, unsuited to the task at hand. Loose strands escaped at every angle, some flying about with his motions, others stuck to his face and neck, plastered with the same sweat that drenched his shirt. 

It was no waltz he performed with that blade in hand, looking so very disheveled… but it was rather like some sort of dance, Dimitri thought. Graceful and elegant, flowing in the firelight. 

Though not for long. Felix soon paused in his motions, his back turned to him.

“Boar,” he growled. Dimitri realized only then that he’d been holding his own breath.

“Felix. Ah. I should let you be, I know. I…” he scrambled for the right words. “I fear I have no excuse.”

“I see,” Felix said, speaking quietly, audible only because the yard around them was so very still. Dimitri wished he could see his face, and Felix turned about as though he’d heard him and obeyed. “Had your fill of dancing, then?” 

“Of a certain sort,” Dimitri agreed. He knew that look. Felix could never resist a bout, and though he was tired and his vision blurred with the intensity of the ache in his skull, he found himself eager for it. He’d spar with him all night, Dimitri thought, so long as it meant that Felix spoke to him, interacted with him, allowed him close.

Felix turned and pulled a blunted blade from a rack and offered it to him, hilt first. “Here,” he sniffed. “If you must be here, make yourself useful. I won’t have you just standing there, staring vacantly like an addled fool.” 

Dimitri hurried to accept. The blade felt fragile and insubstantial in his hand. 

Felix nodded, readying himself, and -- it was so _absurd_ , the two of them, the night of the _grand ball_ \-- and then he _did_ laugh, helplessly.

Felix, of course, took it badly.

His face pinched into a petulant glare, and he pointed the blunted tip of his blade forward and practically snarled. “Stop _laughing,_ ” he insisted, voice high.

Dimitri gasped, doubling over, bracing the sword across his knees. “Sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just so...” he clamped his jaw shut, swallowing his laughter. “It’s past curfew,” he tried to explain. 

Felix just stared at him, features flat.

“So many students sneaking about....” 

“...So?” 

“I’ve seen several on their way to the Goddess Tower, already.” 

Felix scoffed. “That ridiculous legend.” 

“They’ll be sneaking into the gardens, slipping into the gazebos...” 

Felix narrowed his eyes. A flush settled prettily on his cheeks, but it could have been from the cold, or his previous efforts, or both. “Your _point_ , boar,” he demanded. 

“Pulling each other into alcoves for illicit kisses in the moonlight,” he said, grinning, enjoying even the narrow possibility that Felix’s blushing might be for his daring words.

Felix put a hand on his hip, his brows furrowing deep. Dimitri knew that look. The very precipice of a tantrum. He held up his blunted blade, smiling gently. 

“And here we are, on the most anticipated night of the year, crossing swords in the training yard.” 

“If you came here searching for _romance --_ ” 

“Never,” Dimitri said, very solemnly. “Only for you.” 

Felix’s mouth opened. Closed. His face flushed, and for one sweet moment, Dimitri wondered… 

Ah, but no. Felix sprung at him, swift and sure. Dimitri met him head on, bracing for it, and their blades met with a great echoing iron clang. Felix cut back, wincing, shifting and shaking out stinging fingers. For some reason, he always expected him to dodge. 

But Dimitri fought like a Blaiddyd, like a lion, like a beast.

Even so, Felix _did_ dodge, damnably quick, leaping and dancing in that flickering circle of light while Dimitri turned and parried, biding his time. He couldn’t block every blow, but he could handle a few bruises. He barely felt the sting. 

_This is what you were born for,_ a voice whispered. 

“ _Fight_ me, damn you,” Felix panted. “You haven’t forgotten how, have you? You’re capable of better than this clumsy nonsense.” He drew up, lifting his chin, glaring imperiously down his nose. “I swear, boar, if you came here for anything but _this --_.” 

Dimitri swung. He saw Felix’s eyes widen, saw him move a second too late. The blunt iron edge caught him solid in the ribs. Felix doubled over, staggering back, and Dimitri lifted that blade high overhead, and -- 

_That’s how they got me, isn’t it? Did you learn something, that day?_

Felix caught the blow. His sharp features twisted into a grimace, and he braced his blade with both hands as Dimitri bore relentlessly downward.

_Did it impress you?_

Felix flashed him a toothy grin, face flushed, eyes sparking.

_Did you just find it so fucking_ inspiring, _watching a true knight’s brains spill like overdone noodles from his skull?_

Dimitri flinched away, and Felix took the opportunity without hesitation, shoving him back. 

“That’s better,” Felix said, eyes bright, grinning still.

_Not good enough,_ Glenn sneered, bitter and cold. 

Dimitri charged him. 

Felix raised his blade and they collided, iron ringing. The impact knocked Felix clear off his feet and out into the dirt of the yard. His sword skittered out of his grasp, and even then, having taken a blow that would have incapacited a lesser man, he twisted on instinct and scrabbled to retrieve it.

Dimitri fell on him first.

He loomed over him on his knees and pressed his blade’s blunted edge tight to his throat. Felix froze beneath him, nostrils flared, breathing hard. Half his hair had come loose, tangled and spilling everywhere. He gazed up, his amber eyes wide and only for him under the open, starry sky.

“Yield,” Dimitri whispered. 

Felix’s gaze slid sideways, and then he laughed, sudden and startled.

Dimitri’s brow furrowed. “What…” 

“You can see it from here,” Felix said, pointing over his shoulder. “That damned tower.” 

_A trick._

Dimitri bared his teeth. “Why did you come here?” 

“Why did _you_?” 

“I told you,” he breathed. “To see you.”

“...Ah. Right,” Felix said, his voice small. “You said that, already.” 

_A trick! He despises you. If you turned your back --_

Felix lifted his hands, slowly, and gripped his forearms tight. 

The whispers vanished, gone down to the last murky murmur, and the clarity of the ensuing quiet left him dizzy.

“I don’t believe the legend,” Felix said, while Dimitri marveled in a daze at the warmth of his hands. “So don’t get the wrong idea. But if I _did…_ ” he narrowed his eyes. “I know what I would wish for, I suppose.” He wrinkled his nose. “Do you?” 

“I do,” Dimitri breathed, softly. 

Felix peered up at him, something indecipherable passing like a shadow over his expression. “You know how the story goes, don’t you?” he demanded. “They have to match.”

“Ah.” Dimitri smiled helplessly down at him. “I can’t imagine they would. I doubt they would even come close.” 

Felix sagged back into the dirt. His hands fell away, and Dimitri made a thin, protesting sound. They were his tether to the quiet. Without their warmth, he could feel those dark, unintelligible mutterings thrumming at the back of his skull. Dread rose up in him. He reached out and grabbed for him again.

Felix growled at him. “What the hell are you --” 

“I’m so sorry,” Dimitri breathed. “It’s too loud.” 

“Too _loud?_ ” 

“I can’t think. Please, I need the quiet.” 

“The --?” 

“-- _Quiet,_ ” Dimitri said. It wasn’t enough. Desperately, impulsively, he dipped his head and kissed him, hard. 

Felix made a shocked sound, a muffled little noise against his lips... but apart from that, it was blessedly, thoroughly, *deathly* quiet, for just a heartbeat. 

And then.

“Get the _hell_ off of me!” Felix roared, bucking beneath him, shoving him off. Dimitri scrambled to obey, his face blazing hot, dirt clinging to his knees as he stumbled to his feet. Felix practically _jumped_ to his, and then he stepped in close and snatched up Dimitri’s lapels in both hands. “What is this?” he demanded, yanking him close, glaring up with fire in his eyes. “Did Sylvain put you up to this? I’ll kill him. I’ll kill _you!_ There I am, going on about that _stupid_ legend, all this pointless talk about _wishing_ , and you --?!” 

Dimitri grabbed his hands, holding them tight.

“I warned you,” he said, smiling weakly through his fear. “That our wishes might be very different.”

“I’ll kill you,” Felix repeated. 

And yet. 

He didn’t pull away. The threat rang hollow, soft as such a declaration could possibly be.

“I accept your judgement,” Dimitri said. He stepped back and released him, raising his hands in surrender. “Make it quick.” 

“Oh, so you think this is funny? This is hilarious for you, is that it?” 

“Not at all.”

“It has to be,” Felix said, and there was something there, something in the way his voice dipped and cracked.

“It’s no joke, Felix,” Dimitri said, gently. 

Felix’s face wrinkled, his expression unfathomable, and then he took two quick steps forward, pulled back a fist, and drove it forward into Dimitri’s gut hard enough to knock the breath right out of him. “You had better pray the Goddess wasn’t listening,” he hissed. “I swear, if I have to spend my whole life wondering about -- bullshit _wishing magic --_ ”

“Felix?” Dimitri gasped for breath, blinking up at him. Damn! What was he saying? 

Felix growled an incoherent response, and then he grabbed Dimitri’s lapels and yanked him close, kissing him even harder than he’d hit him, somehow. Their mouths slammed together, Dimitri caught his lip against a tooth and tasted blood, and none of it mattered in the least, because _Felix was kissing him._

Dimitri’s chest heaved, and he reached up to cradle Felix’s face incredulously between his palms. Felix pulled away immediately, slapping at his hands, stumbling backwards, wiping his mouth.

“I’ll kill you,” he repeated. “Don’t touch me!” 

“But, your wish…?” 

“None of your business!” 

Felix flushed, looking away, running his fingers through the loose, tangled, escaped strands of hair about his face. He raised a finger and pointed it at him, glaring. 

“I’m going,” he warned. “Don’t follow me.” 

“But, Felix --”

“ _Don’t._ ” 

Felix strode past him, stiff-backed, and Dimitri turned to follow, grinning helplessly. He raised a hand to touch his own lips in wonder. “How am I supposed to get back to my room without following you?” 

“Sleep outside.” 

“Felix… tell me about your wish.” 

“Find a bush to curl up under like some dog.” 

“Ah. Or a burrow, perhaps? Like a --” 

“ _Boar,_ ” Felix sputtered, moving faster. 

“They say that those who share a wish granted by the Goddess are bound together forever,” Dimitri said, solemnly. 

Felix shot a hand out, shoving him away. “As though we weren’t, already.” 

Dimitri flushed with pleasure at that, warmth filling him head to toe. Possibilities all lit up before him, bright and numerous as the stars overhead. 

_Pointless indulgence._

“Perhaps,” he murmured aloud, and when Felix turned to question him, he simply smiled, took his hand, and marveled at the quiet. 


End file.
